


Mistaken Identity

by AirgiodSLV



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-10
Updated: 2005-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-20 13:23:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16138145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirgiodSLV/pseuds/AirgiodSLV
Summary: The girls who haven’t been interviewed yet are supposed to meet him in the back lounge of the club ‘as time allows’, so Jude has had some time to kill before the door opens on his fourth detainee. And…well. That’s different. Although not entirely surprising; Jude has suspected  since the beginning that some of Ian’s “girls” are really nothing of the kind.





	Mistaken Identity

**Author's Note:**

> Ficlet for [](https://maleyka.livejournal.com/profile)[**maleyka**](https://maleyka.livejournal.com/), who stumped me with a line from [Scorpio Moon](http://airgiodslv.dombillijah.com/stories/scorpio.html).
> 
> [](https://lotr-speakeasy.livejournal.com/profile)[](https://lotr-speakeasy.livejournal.com/) **lotr_speakeasy** AU, Jude/Elijah. I had way more fun writing this than I probably should have.

The girls who haven’t been interviewed yet are supposed to meet him in the back lounge of the club ‘as time allows’, so Jude has had some time to kill before the door opens on his fourth detainee. And…well. That’s different. Although not entirely surprising; Jude has suspected since the beginning that some of Ian’s “girls” are really nothing of the kind.

“Jude Law.” Jude stands up and shakes the man’s hand, jaw setting just the tiniest fraction when he sees the amusement in the other man’s eyes, the momentary delay while he gives Jude a professional once-over. And the guy might be pretty – dark hair, pale skin, blue eyes, bone structure a lot of girls would kill for – but Jude doesn’t bend that way. Not for anyone.

“Elijah.” It’s not the most original or intriguing pick-up Elijah has ever heard, but the method - honest and direct - actually has a lot going for it. “Pleased to meet you.”

He'd been looking for a quiet place to be alone, in truth, but Mr. Law is slim, toned, strikingly handsome...and it can't hurt anything to make conversation. Their handshake is brief but firm, and Elijah finishes it with the barest whisper of a caress. Jude looks at him rather sharply, but Elijah plays innocent, blinking and widening his eyes inquisitively. After a drawn-out pause, Jude finally looks away. Breaking first. It's interesting...Elijah hadn't known if he would.

"Please, have a seat." The lack of given surname isn't something that's lost on Jude, but he's guessing that _Elijah_ \- Biblical prophet and not terribly common - isn't the man's real name either. A working name, perhaps? Whoever this kid is, he's not on Ian's official payroll. Which isn't terribly surprising either, considering his gender. Maybe he's listed somewhere else, under an innocuous title like 'janitorial staff 'or 'administrative assistant.'

Jude has met Ian, after all. He'd be willing to bet that Elijah is called on to assist the administration rather more than any of Ian's girls.

"I'd like to ask you a few questions," he says, while Elijah curls up in the room's only armchair...and that chair had been Jude's until now, by far the most commanding piece of furniture in the room. Elijah knows what he's doing, that's for sure. Jude will have to watch his step with this one.

Elijah blinks. "Are you actually _interviewing_ me?" he asks incredulously, watching Jude pick up a notepad and pen, settling across from Elijah on the couch. When Jude simply looks up expectantly, Elijah shakes his head in disbelief. He's heard of high standards before, but _Christ._ This is taking it to a whole new level.

Well, it's not as if he has anything better to do.

"I told you I would." Jude frowns, but Elijah doesn't appear set to argue further, apparently satisfied that Jude isn't playing around. He wonders what Ian told this kid, whether Elijah thought it was all a set-up with a client. Or whether there's a chance he _still_ thinks that, which makes Jude slightly uncomfortable, shifting under Elijah's probing gaze. Surely the girls would have told him...? Or maybe not. They do seem a fiercely competitive (not to mention backstabbing) bunch, and Elijah must be the closest thing to an outsider that they have. Well, if he does think Jude is a customer, it only means they can get through this interview quickly, and without too much complication.

"This will be fast, I promise," Jude assures, pen poised over the paper, listening attentively. He looks up to meet Elijah's eyes. "Salary?"

"More than you make." Elijah gives Jude's suit a pointed once-over, silently daring him to compare their wardrobes. If this is about standards, judging by the business-day attire Jude is wearing, Elijah is well out of his league. But he's used to that. Financially speaking, he's out of most people's leagues.

Jude grits his teeth and ignores the comment, wondering briefly why getting honest answers out of prostitutes seemed to be like pulling teeth. Weren't they all supposed to be charming and cooperative? So much for that myth.

"Just a number, please," he states firmly, although privately he's sure that Elijah's right. Even with a...more select...clientele than Ian's girls, he'd be willing to bet that Elijah does well for himself. The suit, the manner; everything points to money.

Elijah rolls his eyes. Just a little. "Which number would you like?" he asks patiently. "General income, working salary, allowance stipend, gross inheritance...?" He'd probably be able to calculate most of them, but if Jude is picking him out as a potential income source, he's got another think coming. Elijah will allow pick-ups, but he's not anyone's rich boyfriend.

Jude blinks. Rich kid? That list doesn't sound like it's coming from a fresh-off-the-street rent boy. Elijah's wardrobe and snotty attitude make more sense now, although why he's working as a prostitute when he could be sipping gin-and-tonics and coasting through life is beyond Jude. Maybe he just likes the work.

"How about another question," Jude suggests, switching tacks. They can come back to salary later, and he doesn't want to trigger further stubbornness before he's had a chance to collect the necessary information. He scribbles a quick message on his pad, noting Elijah's multiple income sources, and then looks up again. "How many times, per week, would you say that you go home with someone? Just a rough estimate." It's the most delicate way he can think of putting it; he hopes that Elijah appreciates the courtesy.

For a second, Elijah just sits there in disbelief, not trusting his ears, and then his eyes darken dangerously. "I really don't see that it's any of your business," he says, soft but cold, ice in his voice. How _dare_ he? If Jude really thinks this is the best way to bring someone home, he must be more lunatic than eccentric. Insults do not count as flirtation in Elijah's book, no matter who they're coming from.

"I need another drink," Elijah announces, rising from the armchair and enjoying the momentary height advantage that standing gives him. "Good luck with your _interviews_ , Mr. Law. Have a good night."

Is the little tart actually walking out on him? Jude doesn't relinquish control, stays calmly seated and looks up at Elijah without even a hint of annoyance. "Considering our current positions, I think it is my business, very much so," he replies. "I'm sure you realize that, so please." He gestures to the chair, standing now to block Elijah's path to the door. "Have a seat."

Oh, no. Elijah chokes down the panic of being close to trapped in a room with a clearly unstable stranger, and takes a step forward, praying that Jude will back down. "I don't think so."

He's about to continue with a sly parting remark, but as soon as he starts to step around Jude, there's a hand on his arm, and Elijah's reflexes kick in suddenly and unthinkingly. He wrenches his arm back at the same time that his foot lashes out, catching Jude squarely in the shin. He's pleased to note the surprised yelp of pain, just before he registers his freedom and bolts for the door. Time to get out, before the situation escalates. Once he's in sight of the club's bouncers, he'll be fine. They don't take to men assaulting innocent customers any more than Elijah does. And fuck if he's letting Jude lay a hand on him again.

Jude loses a split-second of reaction time to shocked disbelief and a surprising amount of pain - how can someone so small be so vicious? - but he catches Elijah before he makes it through the door, grits his teeth and slams Elijah against it instead. Somewhere in his still-reasoning mind is the knowledge that if he roughs up any of Ian's property, he's going to pay for it. But this isn't a girl, and Jude doesn't have any qualms about hitting men, especially not if they hit him first. Elijah's eyes are wide and startled, and Jude allows himself a moment of grim satisfaction before he shakes Elijah none-too-gently, fingers curling hard into Elijah's biceps. "I said," he grits out tightly, "Have a seat."

Elijah blinks, dazed, and tries to recover his bearings. It's difficult, with Jude pinning him and breathing hot on his face, eyes intensely green and full of controlled fury, but he has enough presence of mind to spit, "I don't think so," and bring a knee up hard into Jude's groin.

Jesus _Christ._ Jude clenches his teeth and slams Elijah into the door again, twisting his hips to pin Elijah's legs from doing any further damage, and wonders in all sincerity if this is really worth it. What's one whore in the grand scheme of things? He can call and ask Ian, or better yet, meet with both of them at the same time. That should keep Elijah's easily-fired temper in check.

"I'm going to tell you one more time," Jude warns, and feels Elijah tremble once against him at the tone of his voice. "Sit down so we can finish this. Then you can go. Otherwise, I call Ian and tell him how very uncooperative you were today, and then we do this again. It's your choice."

Elijah's head has thumped into the wood twice now, and he's feeling a bit light-headed, either from the rough treatment or Jude's proximity, the combination of which is sending confusing mixed signals to his brain through his rapidly-bruising body. His eyelashes have drooped, veiling his gaze as he absorbs the heat of Jude's anger, and then the words fight their way through the haze and he snaps out of it.

Elijah frowns, no longer fighting Jude, just holding still and waiting. "Who's Ian?"

"Who's...?" Oh, for Christ's sake, the kid can't be serious. "Ian," he says slowly, sure that this is another act, but there's no cunning in Elijah's face, and no recognition. Jude's instinct says to step back, run a hand through his hair, and try to clear this mess up, but he's still sensibly wary of Elijah's unpredictability, and his balls ache enough to convince him to stay put. Which is another kind of torture, because Elijah has abruptly stopped struggling and is now more or less plastered against him, and Jude's body and brain are both very much aware that Elijah is male. He doesn't think he's ever been this uncomfortable in his life.

Elijah's a whore, he reminds himself firmly. He does this all the time. Don't think about it. But Christ, those eyes are still on him, not giving him any wiggle room whatsoever, and if Elijah comes onto him now, Jude swears he'll throw the kid across the room, Ian's property or not. It's definitely ample provocation, no court in the country would convict him.

"Who, exactly, are you?" he asks finally, and hopes that he gets an answer that makes sense.

Jude looks bewildered, and if this is yet another case of mistaken identity, Elijah is going to scream. "That would have been a good question for the beginning of the conversation, don't you think?" he drawls, but the lightness refused to be coaxed back into his voice, and his skin is prickling. This close, Elijah can see the flecks of colour in Jude's eyes, the two or three hairs on his jaw that the razor missed this morning. He _wants_ , suddenly, and in their current position, that's not a welcome feeling to have.

"Elijah Wood," he says clearly, figuring that it can't hurt anything, and if he's right about the mistaken identity, it could be his only way out. Jude's face shows no recognition, and Elijah sighs. Ah, well. In for a penny, in for a pound. "Of the New York Woods. Son, heir, scion, whatever of Solomon Wood, the architect?" His voice drips sarcasm. "Surely you've heard of me."

Jude has, actually, but it wasn't in connection with any architect. Where...? It clicks into place too late, and he hopes that his expression isn't as visibly horrified as he feels. Elijah Wood, all over the society pages, and all over...

The opium club. The smuggling ring. The business deals, the brokering, the...Jesus, this kid is three-quarters Capone's, and not in the way Jude had previously thought. What the hell is he doing here? He can't be one of Ian's, he's never even heard of Ian, and no wonder Jude hadn't seen his name on any of the lists.

"Oh," Jude says quietly, and Elijah blinks at him. "Shit."


End file.
